untitled promises
by mktoddsparky
Summary: /she always knew she was meant to break hearts...break them into slivers and release them into the breeze and watch as they sailed far, far away./ She never could stop running, not even when it threatened to destroy her entire world.
1. Part One

(**untitled promises**)

* * *

**I'm marking this as Creddie but it could also be seen as Seddie or Cam or Carly/Sam/Freddie friendship, whatever you prefer. A bit depressing but I like how it came out. You might want to read Crimson Lips Trace The Ice because it gives some background to this story. I hope you really enjoy it. :D**

"promise me you'll be good, rosey," spencer mumbles the afternoon they leave their old home when she's eight and with it desperately fighting the memories [_those frightening, horrifying memories._]

she turns away and in her mind she curses him [_ihateyou-ihateyou-ihateyou_] because nobody calls her 'rosey' anymore. only her dad and her mom hold the permission to call her that and now they're gone – he's serving in the army and she's abandoned them because she's _selfish_ – so nobody can call her that anymore.

a tiny part of her mind wants to turn around and slap spencer clear across the cheek and watch his skin bruise because the thought sounds delicious [but that's the naughty part of her heart.]

but since she's a good [good-good-good, maybe if she thinks it enough it will come true] girl she only whispers, "i promise."

.\/.

she's in fifth grade, sitting in her normal spot in the first row of the classroom next to the popular girls who love sucking up to the teacher. it's her second year here at seattle elementary school and although she knows everyone thinks she's the goody-two shoes she doesn't stop to care.

[she pretends-pretends-pretends that the piece of her heart clamoring for approval from others doesn't exist.]

she's sitting there pretending [pretending-pretending-pretending, maybe someday it will work] that she doesn't care that every other boy and girl in the classroom is sitting next to their mommy and the seat next to her is empty [empty-empty-empty, that word taunts her] because her mommy is gone, because her mommy is selfish enough to stay away and abandon her family.

"carly, why don't you have a mom?" a girl asks from her right and the girl's mother frantically shushes her child but it's too late.

she doesn't know how exactly to respond [the tiny-tiny-tiny voice in her head is prodding her to lie] and then she decides and hisses emotionlessly, "my mom's dead." and oh what a lie that is [but her mom may as well be dead after what she did to them.]

[she should be happy because the tiny-tiny-tiny voice in her head is rejoicing but all she feels is numb-numb-numb.]

.\/.

she's in fifth grade when she meets sam [and it turns-turns-turns her world around, not like she would ever admit that.]

she is sitting there trying to eat her sandwich and failing because each bite feels like she's swallowing a crooked anvil [the edges scrape-scrape-scrape her throat and make her feel like crying.] some inconceivable part of her still yearns for happiness, despite her attempts to push it far, far away.

all of a sudden a girl sits down at her table and promptly steals carly's sandwich. carly feels burning anger in the pit of her stomach [burning-burning-burning until she can't stand the heat anymore] and then she shoves the girl away, taking her sandwich back.

"you fought," the girl states calmly, sitting back down, "i like that." she's clearly totally unfazed [or maybe she's just good at hiding.]

"why are you sitting with me?" carly asks in a chilly tone.

"you're alone," the girl says simply, brushing back her unruly strands of blonde hair [ it looks like she doesn't bother brushing her hair and that somehow that only intrigues carly more,] "i'm sam."

"i'm carly," she answers coolly. "i don't have a mother." she doesn't know why she just blurted that out [or maybe she does and she's just too afraid-afraid-afraid to admit it.]

"i know," sam says with a shrug, "me neither."

they both sit in silence for a minute, silently accepting that they've found a friend in one another and that they share the same venomous anger [that makes them want to tear-tear-tear and shred-shred-shred their mothers apart.]

under the table, their pinky fingers link [and for the first time they feel _understood_.]

.\/.

she's ten and she's sliding back and forth on the crimson barstool, "spencer?"

"hmm?" her brother hums as he slaps another piece of shredded cheese onto his shredded cheese newspaper sculpture.

"do you miss mom?" she blurts out the question before her mind can suck it back [because her mind is perfectly okay with killing-killing-killing any form of love while her heart still sort of-kind of in a paradox over the whole matter.]

spencer hesitates [and her mind cheers and points out that her brother might just loathe-loathe-loathe their mom as well] and then says, "what do you think?"

"i understand," carly answers him because she truly does understand the furious intents that course through her system.

there is silence [filled only by their ragged-ragged-ragged breathing] and then spencer asks, "do you miss mom?"

her heart softens and her mind hardens and her teeth grit as she forces a smile to play on her lips, "what do you think?"

[sometimes she just wants to be rid of the memories because life would be _so much easier_.]

.\/.

she's twelve and they're graduating elementary school and moving on to the [cruel and insensitive] world of junior high after summer comes to a close.

they are supposed to stand on stage and make speeches thanking their parents for supporting them through these long couple years and when it's carly's turn she just stands at the microphone, knots her fingers and smiles at the audience and says, "thank you."

there's nobody to thank because her parents are gone – her father promised to visit them soon but she doesn't _believe him_ – and 'thank you' is all the crowd is really looking for so that's what she gives them.

and that's when she decides that spencer's the only adult she needs in the world [and her cold-cold-cold mind claps in agreement.]

sam doesn't even say 'thank you.' she just stands on the stage and calls parents bozos and carly's never felt so happy to be someone's friend [because really all they are both trying to do is escape-escape-escape.]

.\/.

she's twelve when she meets freddie for the first time. she's going down to get the mail when the door to 8-D opens and a midget of a boy steps out and flashes her this insanely huge grin [and carly doesn't think she's ever seen someone so happy-happy-happy.]

"hi, you're pretty," are the words that pop out of his mouth before he grabs her and yanks her into a gigantic [smothering-smothering-smothering] hug.

she fluffs her hair and straightens her blouse and smiles [except she actually means the smile this time] and decides that she'll keep him around [because he makes her feel pretty-pretty-pretty.]

and that's when she decides that freddie will always be all hers [because she needs the attention and people are just going to have to deal with it.]

.\/.

a couple days later freddie meets her in the hallway again [although it's really more like an ambush.]

"you're really pretty. i think i love you," he confesses, the tips of his ears burning dark red as he presses a chaste kiss against her cheek before rushing inside.

and yes she knows that she doesn't like him in that way yet [although she can't deny she feels an irreplaceable spark when his lips press against her bare skin] and yes she knows that this is so incredibly unfair to him but she can't bring herself to care.

[because she needs his praise and love and he's ready to give it to her.]

.\/.

she insists that sam meets freddie [no matter how nervous the idea makes her because there's no way that sam&freddie would fall in love and rush off into the sunset and leave her _all alone_.]

so she leads sam towards her apartment, "he's really nice."

"i'll be the judge of that," sam snaps and carly feels a hint of hope.

freddie opens the door and sees sam and there's a huge pause in which nobody speaks [and carly's so-so-so afraid although she wouldn't say that.]

"he's a nub; i don't like him," sam decides and all is right in the world again.

.\/.

she's thirteen and lying on the couch watching the cooking channel [just so her eyes can trace the delectable treats and know she can't have them.] every few seconds she exhales as though waiting for something and looks at the cupboard again because she's so hungry [starving actually.]

she's been dying [slowly-slowly-slowly wasting away] to eat all day and yet every time she looks at food she feels like something is wrong and so she doesn't eat.

and then there's a quiet clicking at the door and sam bursts into the apartment, soaking wet [and carly swears that the blonde girl is crying but she doesn't say anything.]

"my mom beat me up," is all sam says before collapsing onto the couch.

carly feels a rush of anger and then her fingertips tingle and they're stretching forward without her permission to touch the bruises dotting her friend's skin [because somehow in this light the bruises look lovely to her.]

"you lied to me," carly mutters a second later as her hands trace sam's skin. "you said your mom was dead."

"i lied," sam confesses, shivering under her best friend's touch [every though she can't-can't-can't shiver because if she does then it's breaking the law,] "but my mom may as well be dead."

russet eyes connect with swirling ocean pools as they silently communicate and then sam admits, "it's my dad that split, the fucking idiot!"

"don't curse," carly reprimands before pulling her into a secure hug [because all they really need is each other.]

.\/.

they start high school and she is praised for her glossy brown hair and slim body and shimmering brown eyes [and she loves-loves-loves the attention so much.]

she and sam are still best friends and have absolutely no intentions of dropping that connection. people stare and gossip and wonder why the sweet, charming [but she's really not that sweet and charming] carly shay is hanging out with the tomboy-violence maker known as sam puckett.

they never tell anybody why [because it's their secret and theirs alone-alone-alone] so just to freak out the popular girls with their pretty [perfect-perfect-perfect] bodies and hair and clothing and speech they hold hands in the hallway and brush kisses across each other's cheeks.

"this doesn't mean anything, right?" carly asks with a hint of trepidation as sam's lips move against her neck. "it's just a game right?" [and she won't ever-ever-ever admit that her voice trembles while asking that question because carly shay isn't afraid of anything.]

"isn't everything a game?" sam answers with a smirk.

.\/.

freddie starts following them around and little by little she stops holding sam's hand and kissing her cheek [because now that a boy's involved in their little circle she can't give the game away.]

she pretends [pretends-pretends-pretends, like the up-charge hitting the back of the toilet and the stick of mint gum she pops in her mouth to hide it] that she's fine, that she doesn't notice sam's hurt glances.

because she doesn't like sam in that way [she would never-never-never swing that way] but at the same time she needs that attention and only sam can provide it.

"i love you," freddie says every time he sees her, a beaming smile stretching across his face.

"i know," she mumbles, "but freddie…" she doesn't have to say any more because his face is already dropping with disappointment and she's turning towards sam and giving a hint of a smile that's somehow always [always-always-always, she needs it] returned.

[she always knew she was meant to break hearts…break-break-break them into slivers and release them into the breeze and watch as they sail far, far away.]

.\/.

miss briggs gives them detention for absolutely no good reason whatsoever and they have to judge the talent show.

"aw, what is that doing here?" freddie whines in his high [squeaky] voice as he sets up his camera.

"she, freddie; i'm a she," sam retorts and carly is the only one who knows why they fight like they do, why they insist on the whole tooth-and-nail bit.

they both want her attention so, so desperately [and it's what she wants so she doesn't know why she isn't she squealing with joy, or she doesn't want to address it.]

during the show they sit sam-carly-freddie [because she just has to be in the middle, otherwise they might forget about her] and while the contestants perform it looks like a trio of casual friends. under the table their fingers link – sam's hand feels soft and gentle, totally unlike her new thorny personality, while freddie's hand is sweating bullets.

once they're done with the show sam and freddie actually agree for once in their lives and say that they should start a web-show, just the three of them [and how can carly complain; this way she'll have both of them by her side whenever she wants them.]

they name it iCarly [and it's a good thing they did because without her they'd be nothing-nothing-nothing] and she feels actually happy for once.

.\/.

when she's fifteen she screams at spencer and tells him to stop sculpting. He gives her the saddest look she's ever seen and runs off to his bedroom and life turns into proper-society land.

she lies there under her covers and thinks about apologizing [but her mind just won't relent because she must-must-must be powerful] so she calls sam at two-thirty in the morning.

"you need advice." it's never a question with sam anymore [and carly doesn't know whether or not to feel relieved that the blonde knows so much about her.]

"i'm…" she wants to apologize for bothering her best friend at this time but the word just won't come.

"you know you won't say it," sam remarks with a cold, drunken laugh and carly can practically picture her friend nuzzling into the sheets while drowning her sorrows with a bottle of beer.

"i'm sorry," she whispers, forcing the two words [six letters] out just so she can prove sam wrong. her sharp teeth pierce the skin of her lip and droplets of blood ooze out of the muscle and she wishes that she could just be happy [simple-simple-simple happiness, what a thought.]

the next day she runs into her brother's arms and says she's sorry but she doesn't cry [because she can't cry anymore] and tells him to start sculpting again.

[the whole time her heart is throbbing approvingly while her mind is whipping her for her disobedience – weakness, love…they cannot be tolerated.]

.\/.

sam tells the whole world that freddie has never kissed a girl and carly stumbles backwards [because her heart is crying out for their technical producer and her mind is cackling and thinking 'it's about time the boy gets a taste for what you and sam go through.']

she follows her heart and snaps at sam for hurting freddie, "you went too far this time, and you can't fix it!"

sam only says in the softest [gentlest] tone carly has ever heard, "i'm gonna go talk to freddie."

and somehow in the next few weeks things get back to normal [even though they don't tell her what happened that night and she's left to wonder-wonder-wonder.]

.\/.

she's sixteen when she finds out that sam kissed freddie that night on the fire escape [and her whole world comes crashing-crashing-crashing down.]

because sam and freddie are just 'sam' and freddie,' not sam&freddie, a couple thing, just separate individuals who despise each other.

they can't possibly be any more [because sam wouldn't possibly steal freddie away from her, not him too.]

and when she asks them if they liked the kiss [and she strains for the answer that will change-change-change everything] spencer just _has_ to barge in and strum a random tune on his banjo and ruin the moment.

she never finds out the answer to that question.

.\/.

her arms weave around sam and pull the reluctant blonde closer [closer-closer-closer still] until she can smell the raspberry scent of her chap-stick.

and when she feels sam's lips press against her collarbone and her friend's toes brush her legs she inhales shakily, "is this still a game, sam?"

[moments pass and both girls know they won't answer the question because they're straight…they just _need_ this for some unexplainable reason.]

"if you want it to be," sam mumbles into carly's chilled skin before pulling the brunette's nightgown up [up-up-up, exposing milky skin] and kissing her best friend's cheek, "if you want it to be."

.\/.

after their disastrous dates for prom freddie inhales deeply and shoots her a gentle smile and mumbles something that she doesn't catch. she's too busy tracing the outline of his plump lips with her dark, brooding eyes.

and then he's pulling her up and his hands are circling her waist and she feels warm all over so she rests her head on his shoulder and they just dance&dance&dance.

for the first time in however many years the voices in her head…cease.

[pure, golden silence.]

.\/.

she sits down next to sam on the cold, hard pavement and joins her in staring at absolutely nothing.

[what is there possibly to say between two girls with broken-broken-broken hearts that just keep coming back for more.]

and then finally, a question. "do you ever feel like you're going insane?" carly asks.

sam smirks and takes another sip of her chilly beer and carly wishes she could feel numb like her best friend is right now, "i'm already insane, carls."

the blonde then offers carly a sip of beer and she takes it gratefully, sipping hesitantly and then when discovering how it dulls the pain, chugging it down until it's all gone [gone-gone-gone, empty as her heart] and relishing how all her worries just _**f a d e**_…_**a w a y**_.

"how do you make it stop?" carly whispers with a drunken hiccup, staring at the tops of the fading autumn trees and wishing she could just fly far, far away. "how do you make the pain, the insanity…stop?"

sam rolls on top of carly, pressing their bodies together as she kisses a trail down the brunette's neck and chest, her teeth nipping and biting, releasing blood in smeared trails.

finally sam leans up, her teeth and lips coated in crimson, her blonde curls a haphazard mess, "_you don't_."

.\/.

it finally happens, the moment where everything is supposed to go bippity-boppity-boo and then become happily ever after [and then again she never really believed in fairy tale endings.]

freddie saves her from the taco truck and they kiss in his room and date and she's so happy she's practically glowing [and pretending-pretending-pretending] she can't see the expression on sam's face.

she thinks she loves him; she truly does. and then she sees them talking in the hallway: sam&freddie and freddie&sam and she knows, oh she knows that she doesn't have what sam has.

freddie breaks up with her because sam played the heartbroken card [and now guess who's fucking heart is broken.]

.\/.

she's seventeen when she screams at sam for the first time. sam just stands there and lets her scream [and she's feeling all emotional for the first time because of sam and it's all screwed up] until she's through with her lecture.

[she's a good-good-good girl and all good girls need to lecture others.]

"are you done?" sam asks gently. carly nods, fighting back tears for the first time in years.

then sam kisses her and carly knows she can't avoid this any longer because she kisses her back [and she's pretty sure she's falling for sam even though she's _straight_.]

sam kisses her and sucks away all the pain and carly is left feeling somewhat normal again.

"i don't love you," carly says when they're done.

"i know," sam says, hugging her best friend before leaving [and she swears there's an insane gleam in the blonde's eyes but she's too weary to care.]

.\/.

that night she smuggles up spencer's hidden stash of vodka and sits in bed with a tiny cup and a mind full of determination [because there's no other way to numb the pain and understanding that her life is so fucked up.]

so she pours a cup and drinks it and does it again and again and again until the world is spinning and she feels elated [and she knows the crash is coming but she doesn't want to believe it.]

the next morning all she's left with is a splitting headache, three empty bottles and a bleeding heart [and the bleeding is figurative but sometimes she wishes it were literal.]

.\/.

spencer finds his missing stash in her room and questions her about it.

"i feel like nothing will ever be right again," she slurs and then bursts out laughing.

spencer signs her up for therapy for three months and she attends [just to make him happy, although in some twisted part of her mind she actually _wants_ to get better.]

when they get home he tells her to promise him that she won't drink alcohol every again.

"i promise," carly mumbles with a quirk of a smile and immediately calls sam and the two girls spend the afternoon passing a bottle of beer back and forth and kissing under the sun, their lips tasting like raspberry chap-stick.

and that night they find a ratty blanket and lie down under the stars, their breath mingling as they cuddle and their fingers and toes linking intimately [although they would insist it was mainly to retain warmth.]

"what happened to the simple days?" sam asks sadly.

carly hasn't heard that tone of voice for years, "they vanished, 'poof.'"

both girls are silent as they share a last kiss [and they know it's their final kiss because they're _straight_ and it tastes like sadness and desperation and determination all at once.]

"is this still a game?" carly wonders as they gazes into the night sky, picking out the twinkling stars and trying to catch one in her palm.

"was it ever?" sam whispers, her breath swirling in the chilly air.

[and that's when they look at each other and know they want their best friend back.]

.\/.

carly walks home alone that night, knocking on freddie's door and ignoring her own. she knows where she belongs tonight.

freddie opens the door, dressed only in plaid boxers and immediately his face softens as he sees the tears streaming down her cheeks [and she wasn't even aware that she'd started crying.]

"i'm sorry, freddie." she's not exactly sure what she's apologizing for but she feels like she needs to apologize for something.

and then she's in his arms and their lips are moving against one another's and she's so incredibly happy [she feels like her heart will burst from all the emotion and she knows now that nothing else can compare to this love.]

"i love you," he tells her when they part, brushing a stalk of her dark brown hair back.

"i know." she's still playing the game because she doesn't know how to stop [let alone if she ever possesses a heart anymore.]

[this is the last time she says 'i'm sorry.']

.\/.

she's eighteen when she walks over to sam's house just days after graduation to spend some time with her meat-loving best friend.

the bed is empty, her clothes are gone and pam has no idea what happened to her daughter [and carly represses the urge to slap the woman across the face for all the agony she's caused sam.]

and then she's sees the note on the pillow and her world comes crumbling down [and she loses her heart and never reclaims it.]

'_it was never a game.'_

.\/.

she lies under freddie and listens to him grunt as he thrusts in and out of her. she is numb, having consumed several bottles of vodka beforehand, and she relishes the numb [numb-numb-numb] feeling.

she doesn't deserve to feel anything, not since crushing sam beyond repair and convincing freddie to love her [even though she did love him so, so much.]

she cannot love anybody, anymore.

so she lets freddie have his pleasure now because by tomorrow morning she'll be long gone, like sam.

[_itwasneveragame – itwasneveragame – itwasneveragame._]

.\/.

she slides her card through the turnstile before continuing on towards the boarding gate. she carries three-thousand two-hundred twenty seven dollars and six cents in a debit card and a resolute expression.

"flight two-oh-nine is now boarding," a woman states calmly over the microphone and she loads her bags where they will be loaded onto the plane.

"goodbye." she's not sure who she says that to but she can picture sam smirking in approval and freddie kissing her brow and that's all she needs to proceed.

and then as she's boarding two familiar figures slide in on either side of her and link fingers with hers and she feels a spark of…_something_.

"it was never a game," she agrees as she boards the plane and they follow her, saying nothing. they don't need to.

and without a single exchange or dispute sam and freddie follow her into a new beginning [and she's not sure why she ever doubted them in the first place.]

[she always knew she was meant to break hearts…break-break-break them into slivers and release them into the breeze and watch as they sail far, far away.]

**the end **


	2. Part Two

(**untitled promises **_\part two/_)

* * *

**AN: So I had a sudden inspiration to add something to this story but this will probably be the end. It might just be a drabble thing, though. Enjoy.**

they visit europe and asia, travel through obscure cities and national monuments.

spencer leaves her 51 messages on her cell phone (it rings-rings-rings until she can't bear it) before the battery dies.

("did you ever consider answering?" sam wonders.

carly shrugs, "i'm trying not to think about it.")

;

she buys a car charger in spain.

"i'm proud of you," freddie says gazes, enraptured, through the glass of a display case at the latest camera.

carly flicks down her contact list, "why?"

sam and freddie exchange an amused glance and he tells her, "that you're going to call spencer."

"oh," she says, and delete's spencer's phone number from her contact list, "right."

(too bad - horrible - bad she's got his number by memory.)

;

they eat dinner in an italian restaurant one night. carly orders a salad (and counts on the stick of mint flavored gum in her purse,) sam orders chicken parmesian (and orders a side of flaming red peppers on the side; the waiter walks off with lipstick prints all over his neck and cheeks) and freddie orders a water (because he has a fat free meal ready back at their hotel.)

carly still sits in between them (because sam-carly-freddie is all they've ever known.)

"why don't you ever eat?" sam asks carly in the bathroom, applying crimson lipstick rather roughly (carly notes that it's freddie's favorite shade.)

carly doesn't shrug, doesn't move, "it keeps me from running back to insanity."

they both remember (oh they remember) the days of stolen kisses and creamy white skin exposed to the air.

;

they stay up late (the moon wavers, vanishes from the sky) with the tv turned up and tuned to I Love Lucy (because who-who-who doesn't love a good comedy?)

"let's change the channel," sam coaxes, easing the control out of carly's fingers. it's slips, slides...and then catches.

"no," carly whispers, her gaze locked on the screen, "not yet. this is spencer's favorite show."

she catches the look sam and freddie give each other from across the room (it's filled with such longing, such desperation.)

;

carly drinks and drinks until she can't remember why she's drinking anymore.

("are you alright?" freddie asks.

carly giggles, "i think i used to be happy, once upon a time.")

;

"you still stick with mommy's wittle habits?" sam teases freddie one evening.

(they've committed to traveling in the car after the news channel focuses in on their faces and blinks: missing - they're running away - missing.)

carly's driving (and the alcohol numbs her system; the car swerves slightly and cars honk) and sam and freddie occupy the back. she wonders why the middle row is empty.

freddie is trying to straighten the collar sam just messed up and he does it wrong. carly sees sam hesitate (and that expression reminds her of 'is this a game?' and 'if you want it to be') and then fingers stretch and sam is smoothing back his collar to perfection.

(carly pretends-pretends-pretends she doesn't see the - frightened, perhaps? - glance sam and freddie share.)

;

carly feels a hand press against her shoulder, "huh?"

sam's blue eyes gaze down at her, "it's my turn to drive, carls. c'mon." red encircles sam's eyes and it's not from lack of sleep.

(carly has a feeling that if she checks the back window then she'll find tears; sam always did want to conserve reputation.)

there is a pause. "i miss your kisses," carly confesses and she's surprised to find that she means the words.

soft lips press against her head and then everything goes black.

;

carly wakes up to feel a cool cloth pressed against her head, "wh-what happened?"

"you fainted," freddie says, smiling before pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek (or at least she has to tell herself it's innocent; sam glares from the driver's seat and it all comes back - golden silence, dancing with him at the groovy smoothie.)

"you knocked me out!" carly cries indignantly, pointing an accusatory finger at the blonde.

sam shrugs, "you sound shocked about it."

a beat, or two. carly considers staying mad but she can't. a smile breaks through and the tension temporarily dissolves.

;

they make a pit-stop and order a room at an out-of-the-way hotel for just $37 ("and 19 cents but nobody cares about the specifics," sam grumbles. "sam, this story is from my perspective," carly says, tapping her foot. "are you seriously waiting for me to apologize?" sam chuckles.)

"i brought you something," freddie tells carly when sam heads off to the bathroom. a bottle of beer catches the light.

"you don't drink," she says, taking a measured sip (so she doesn't lose - and never find - herself so quickly.)

freddie just smiles (and it's the saddest-sam would have laughed at him-saddest smile she's ever seen on him.) "you do," he says.

carly finds that his lips taste like spearmint and detergent (and good god, she thinks, is he drinking the stuff now?)

;

they lie there at night (sam and carly in one bed and freddie on the floor; the hotel is too cheap to get a roll-away and freddie insists on being the perfect gentleman) and listen to their soft breathing.

somehow at around five in the morning freddie has scooted to carly's side and their fingers link against the comforter.

her brown eyes (drowning in the silence and truth of it all) meet his and she almost smiles, "time passes and yet you still remain." she could be a poet if she wished.

(carly pretends - and it's incredibly difficult - that she doesn't feel tears hitting the back of her neck, "sam?"

there is no answer, and tear-filled blue eyes meet the sight of the sleeping tech producer.)

;

for five days carly holds freddie's hand in the car (he sits beside her when she drives now and it's so perfect that she bleeds inside.)

one...two...three...four cigarettes pipe in sam's mouth during the course of the day.

"please don't," carly begs the blonde. "not another one; you've had enough."

(sam ignores her, of course, and silent tears don't fall.)

;

finally carly relents and asks sam if she can borrow her phone.

"are you alright?" she wonders when sam doesn't respond.

"do i still taste like raspberries?" sam asks as she hands over her phone.

(time passes and games are remembered - their past continues to haunt-haunt-haunt them.)

"i wouldn't know," carly says, hating the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

;

"hello?" spencer sounds hopeless (and she cringes because she did this to him.)

"it's me," carly says quietly, unable to speak her own name, because she's sure he's banished it from memory, pushed it into the shadows of past.

there is a pause. she hears him choking on words.

"when are you coming home?" he finally settles for asking.

this time it's carly that halts (this could very well destroy him - very own flesh and blood - and her frozen heart thaws with the knowledge) and then finally responds with, "i don't know if i can - ever."

spencer hangs up.

;

carly cries in freddie's arms.

;

she seats herself beside sam, relaxing slightly when the blonde doesn't get up to walk away. "remind me again why i walked away?" she finally whispers.

sam's eyes look like the ocean (like she's drowning - gasping for air - drowning in their pools) and she says, "to escape from this." she gestures between them and then freddie.

carly nearly laughs, because it's so - totally and completely - not funny, "well, i'm certainly not accomplishing that, now am i?"

sam glances over (and reveals bruised, dull eyes) and sighs. they link pinky fingers and remember sitting at a table and hating their mothers.

;

she calls spencer again, "i need money."

a break in sound (and she fears - no, she doesn't - that he has hung up) and then spencer says, "give me an address."

she does, feeling practically giddy with joy she hasn't experienced in such a long (never) time, "i do love you, you know."

he sighs, "yeah, i know."

(carly knows she's losing his love

but true to his word money arrives - a thousand dollars, to estimate - .)

;

they spend a hundred dollars on ice cream, dilute it with water, and dump it on themselves while lying on the beach.

"it's times like this i can forget i'm growing up," carly tells them as she holds both their hands and allows the sun to dry a chocolate plaster on her body.

sam mumbles something along the lines of an agreement and carly feels a knot forming behind her back. (her heart suddenly aches.)

freddie and sam are holding hands behind her back, their grip on each other's fingers so tight carly feels she'll find bits of skin left scattered across the sand.

(but that's always how it's been, hasn't it?

_secrets, secrets, secrets_.)

;

"i kissed sam," freddie tells her one evening.

she gazes up at the stars and counts in her head (one...two kisses now, they've had - three if she counts melanie.) carly finds herself wishing that the skies could grant advise to ease the permanent ache in her soul.

"but you love me," is what she says.

he doesn't look at her as they kiss, "i know."

she pulls back to look at him, really look at him. "do you remember the one time we made love?" she asks him quietly, her voice barely noticable in the breeze. (making love isn't really the right term, but all girls want to be treated like a princess in the end.)

freddie nods.

she pulls him closer, her fingers stretching up to unbutton his shirt, "be with me again." she's selfish (so selfish) and sam's right in the other room but she's tired of caring. she just needs to _feel_.

(and hope that feeling can save her.)

her nails scratch cuts into his back as they move together on the bed in the hotel room - because carly feels like she should mark him for herself.

;

sam turns nineteen and they've been gone 218 days.

"did you make a wish?" carly asks after the blonde blows out seven candles (because it was the only pack of candles the drug store had left.)

sam turns, hunches her shoulders, "i promised that i would throw out my raspberry chapstick." (carly remembers that sam doesn't _do_ wishing.)

they fall apart and as tears stream down their hollow cheeks they embrace - it's almost like old times, when their worries circulated around their webshow.

"you're going home, aren't you?" carly asks, already knowing the answer.

sam only blots the tears from her eyes ("because i'm not some sociopathic damsel in need of rescue," sam spits) and nods, "my journey's over, kid."

(carly would never admit it, but she's envious of sam's choice to give in and forgive -

- _what a concept, something long forgotten_.)

;

he's watching sam pack when carly finds him.

"what do you dream of at night?" she asks him as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and tucks her head into the crook of his neck.

(somehow his presence no longer elicts peaceful silence, only a tumult of indecision.)

a sigh rumbles in freddie's chest, "my mom in her kitchen, cooking some dish that likely contains no preservatives, no fat, and no flavoring, my hands clutching that of my wife, my arms holding a baby - my firstborn child." his dreams sound beautiful.

carly realizes that she doesn't want a child. she doesn't want to raise a kid in the crumbling pieces of the life she's succeeded in creating.

"you love me." it's not a question that slips from her lips.

"always," he says softly, his brown eyes drinking in the sight of sam's doodled on pair of shoes in the corner (her converse; one thing that will never change about sam.)

"but you love sam more," carly whispers, kissing his cheek - because she doesn't know how else to say goodbye.

(freddie leaves with sam the next morning and the sight of them holding hands has never looked so right.)

;

she dials the only number she knows from memory (besides sam and freddie, of course.)

"yes?" spencer answers dully.

"i want to come home," carly tells him, tears burning in her eyes as she fights not to drop the phone.

at the sound of his excited scream she can't help the smile that crosses her face.

;

spencer meets her at the airport (just him - sam and freddie are nowhere to be seen - and she's okay with that.)

he flings his arms around her before she can say a word, before she can begin trying to apologizing for everything she's done when the truth of the matter is that she's not sorry for any of it.

carly discovers that she's missed him more than she could have ever imagined (and doesn't she sound cheesy now.)

"i love you," he says into her hair, against her lips, across her forehead, "i love you." over and over again the words come.

she starts crying - and the voice in her head that whips her for such sentimentality clutches its chest and collapses - at his words because he couldn't possibly love her after every disappointment she pushed his way.

"i love you too." the words come haltingly (she's still not used to saying them) but carly means them with every fibre of her being.

(because she's home -

- and she never realized that spencer meant home until now.)

;

she always knew she was meant to break hearts…break-break-break them into slivers and release them into the breeze and watch as they sail far, far away.

(but maybe once in awhile she could skip the breaking part and continue onto flying free.)

;

**_fin_**

;

**AN: I felt like this ended well but I would appreciate your honest opinions. Thank you for taking time to read this piece. **


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